New Possibilities
by Settiai
Summary: Tegan had asked her to distract him. She did. :: Nyssa/Turlough


Turlough looked up when his door opened, not even trying to hide the startled expression on his face as Nyssa hesitantly stuck her head in. "Is this a bad time?" she asked warily.

Self-consciously shoving the sketchpad he had secreted during their last stop under his pillow, Turlough shook his head. "No," he said, quickly standing up, "not at all."

"That's good." Nyssa stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "I was worried that it might be."

They both stood there for a moment, neither of them speaking. The silence grew more and more uncomfortable as the seconds ticked by.

Turlough finally cleared his throat. "Did you need something?"

An embarrassed look appeared on Nyssa's face, and her cheeks reddened. Turlough couldn't help but notice that her hands were fidgeting nervously. She bit her lip, but she didn't say anything.

Comprehension suddenly dawned on him. "What's Tegan ranting to the Doctor about now?" Turlough asked with a tired sigh. "That I'm trouble? A sneak? Dangerous?"

"All of the above, most likely," Nyssa said with a hint of a smile. Her face was still red, but the blush was slowly starting to fade. "I'm not certain if you've noticed, but she doesn't like you very much."

Turlough rolled his eyes. "I never would have guessed," he said dryly.

Nyssa let out a quiet laugh. "I'm supposed to distract you while she tracks down the Doctor," she admitted, her eyes twinkling slightly. "But I think she wanted to make certain we were both out of the way."

As what she was implying sunk in, Turlough blanched. "Are you saying that Tegan and the Doctor . . . ."

All traces of seriousness disappeared from Nyssa's face as she threw her head back and laughed. After a few seconds, Turlough started to chuckle as well. He shook his head as he sat back down on his bed, gesturing for her to join him.

Nyssa hesitated for just a moment before walking over and joining him on the bed.

"Please tell me you're joking," Turlough said, quirking an eyebrow in her direction. "I thought the Doctor had better taste."

An odd expression appeared on Nyssa's face, one that appeared to be a mixture of sheepishness and indignation. "I know that you and Tegan have problems," she protested, "but she's a good person. If you ever got to know her, you'd see that."

Turlough did a slight double-take. "Don't tell me that _you_ and Tegan . . . ."

Nyssa blushed and looked away.

"Next, you'll be telling me that you and the Doctor . . ." Turlough trailed off as Nyssa made a quiet noise that sounded suspiciously like a muffled laugh. "Actually, never mind. I don't want to know. I _really_ don't want to know."

After a few seconds, Nyssa turned back toward him. Her face was still red, but she had schooled her expression into one that was suspiciously blasé.

Turlough reached up and rubbed his temple. "Did Tegan force you to come keep me out of her hair or did you volunteer?"

"I volunteered," Nyssa replied slowly, looking somewhat surprised by his changing the subject. "I told her that you didn't seem that bad to me."

"Not that bad," Turlough repeated. "Don't you know that glaring praise like that will go straight to my head?" He shot her a light grin to show that he was teasing, and she returned the favor.

The two of them slipped back into silence. Their few minutes of talking had driven away the uncomfortableness of earlier, and Turlough took advantage of the silence to study the woman sitting beside him. He had assumed that she was a teenager when they had first met, perhaps seventeen or eighteen - close to his own age, relatively speaking. Now . . . he wasn't so certain. There was just something about her that made him think she might be older than she looked.

"Nyssa, what species are you?"

The moment that the words left his mouth, Turlough regretted them. Nyssa didn't look insulted, though, merely thoughtful. That convinced him that she definitely wasn't human - at least, not from anywhere near the timeframe Tegan called home. He'd spent enough time on Earth to know that most humans from the 1980s wouldn't take that particular question very well.

"My home was Traken," Nyssa replied after a few seconds. Turlough heard the slight tremble in her voice, and he instantly picked up that she had said "was" and not "is." The name wasn't familiar to him, but it was a large universe - especially when time travel was added to the mix. She had probably never heard of Trion either.

Not quite certain how to reply, Turlough offered her a quiet: "I'm sorry."

Nyssa gave him a weak smile. "So am I."

Turlough stared at her, his gaze focused on her face. He hadn't known her very long, but he had the feeling that not many people had seen the sad expression that she was wearing right now. She seemed like the type to hide her true feelings, keeping them buried so that no one would worry about her. He wasn't certain whether she was showing them to him because, for some reason, she trusted him . . . or because she didn't care enough about him for it to matter if he saw.

He supposed it didn't matter, when all things were said and done. Whatever her reasons, that expression didn't belong on her face. He was certain of that much.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he leaned in and kissed her.

Turlough had meant it to be a quick peck on the lips, perhaps a small reassurance that she wasn't alone. That changed a few seconds later when, as he started to pull away, Nyssa surprised him by grabbing his shirt and holding him in place. _She's a lot stronger than she looks_ ran through his mind as she returned his kiss eagerly, her tongue slipping into his mouth.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless. Turlough took in the look on Nyssa's face, reading the invitation in it clearly. It was obvious what she was offering. "Are you certain?"

"Are you actually young enough to be wearing a school uniform?" she shot back.

Turlough blinked in surprise. "Not exactly," he said slowly. "Are you?"

Nyssa gave him a knowing smile. Then, without saying a word, she swung her legs up on the bed. She'd apparently slipped her shoes off when he hadn't been looking, and she lightly ran one of her bare feet down the side of his leg.

Turlough felt his pants suddenly grow uncomfortably tight around his groin. "Well then," he whispered huskily, "maybe we should get me out of this uniform. I wouldn't want to give Tegan any more excuses to tell the Doctor that I'm a liar."

"No," Nyssa agreed, "we wouldn't want that."

She slid from the bed onto his lap, and Turlough didn't even try to hide his groan as she spent a second shifting into place. He leaned in and kissed her neck, acutely aware that she was nimbly unbuttoning his shirt.

Turlough had to admit that, as distractions went, he'd seen worse.


End file.
